


Becoming: A Project Rebirth Tale

by jellybeanforest



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bookstore, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Bisexual Tony Stark, Bottom Tony Stark, Cap-Ironman Bingo, Difficulty Coming Out, Disclosing Trans Identity, Happy Ending, M/M, Mentions of family rejection, Pre-Op Trans Character, Protective Bucky Barnes, Top Steve Rogers, Trans Male Character, Trans Steve Rogers, Trans acceptance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2019-12-27
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:35:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21979678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jellybeanforest/pseuds/jellybeanforest
Summary: Tony owns a queer bookstore. He has a good read on his customers; some are curious first timers, and there are a few regulars, but one nervous return customer comes in every day for a week before purchasing a copy of the Gay Kama Sutra while blushing, eyes staring too hard at his hands palming the counter.Tony slides the book closer, flipping it over to scan the barcode. “Sometimes it’s hard to learn these types of things from books,” he says, his tone even.“Pardon?”It’s now or never. “If you’re interested in a practical lesson, I close up in ten minutes. We can go out for drinks at the Foxhole and see where it goes, handsome.”The man gives Tony a once-over, biting his bottom lip in thought. “I’m not much of a drinker,” he finally admits, but it sounds like an excuse.Tony knows better than to press him on it. “Alright. Forget I said anything,” he says, ringing up the man’s purchase.“But I wouldn’t say no to a malt. I know just the place.”In which Steve undergoes a different type of Project Rebirth, Tony asks him out, and Steve struggles to tell him that he’s not exactly like the other men he has dated in the past.For the Cap-IronMan Bingo 2019 Round 2 – AU: Bookstore.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 34
Kudos: 301
Collections: Captain America/Iron Man Bingo





	Becoming: A Project Rebirth Tale

**Author's Note:**

> Please read the tags! Steve is an AFAB trans man in this one. He’s up front on dating apps, but when Tony (who is a bisexual cis man) asks him out on a date after meeting him in person, he doesn’t know how to tell him he’s a trans man who is on hormones but hasn’t undergone bottom surgery. If that’s not something you’d enjoy reading, then please turn back now. 
> 
> Also, please be aware that this fic takes place pre-2014. Before 2014, New York state required transgendered individuals to get sex reassignment surgery to change or reissue a new birth certificate reflecting the person’s gender identity (which causes a cascade of issues with things like driver’s licenses, passports, employment, etc). Steve had taken to using cash out of habit because his identification paperwork is kind of a mess, and for a while, his credit cards were in his deadname. (As of 11/2019, Mastercard announced they will let customers use their chosen names, even if they haven’t changed their legal names yet, but previously, paying with a credit card used to be troublesome for some transgendered people.) As of the time of this fic, Steve has legally changed his name, but as a pre-op trans man, he has trouble getting the gender marker corrected on his ID. He doesn’t like getting carded, which would out him as trans.

He’s back again, the handsome stranger wearing the too-tight shirt stretched over his impressive physique, staring at the self-help and erotica sections like he had been doing every day for the past week. It’s not that Tony minds. Browsing is free after all, and Tony enjoys the view, but he would like to talk to the man, hear the timber of his voice, probably deep and smooth like dark velvet by the look of him. Maybe one day–

_Shit, he’s coming over._

Tony plasters on his best customer-service smile, stands up a bit straighter – _damn is handsome stranger tall_ – and addresses the man, “Find what you are looking for?”

Because Tony sure has.

“Yeah…” The man blushes, placing a copy of _The Gay Kama Sutra_ on the checkout counter, while staring too hard at his hands palming the edge.

Tony slides the book closer, flipping it over to scan the barcode. “Sometimes it’s hard to learn these types of things from books,” he says, his tone even.

“Pardon?”

 _It’s now or never._ “If you’re interested in a practical lesson, I close up in ten minutes. We can go out for drinks at the Foxhole and see where it goes, handsome.”

The man gives Tony a once-over, biting his bottom lip in thought. “I’m not much of a drinker,” he finally admits, but it sounds like an excuse.

Tony knows better than to press him on it. “Alright. Forget I said anything,” he says, ringing up the man’s purchase.

“But I wouldn’t say no to a malt. I know just the place.” Handsome hands him cash to pay for the book. “The name’s Steve by the way.”

“Tony,” he supplies, pointing to his name tag. “Nice to meet you Steve.”

“Likewise, Tony.”

* * *

Tony had offered to drive Steve to Howley’s Diner, but Steve had insisted he take his own motorcycle there. “You won’t have to take me back,” Steve tells him. “It will be easier if I drive myself.”

 _Of course he owns a motorcycle,_ Tony thinks. Perhaps next time, Steve can give him a ride.

And then maybe afterwards, he’ll show Tony his motorcycle.

But first: Milkshakes.

Howley’s is overwhelmingly kitschy, the tufted vinyl upholstery of the interior booths and counter stools match the external electric blue paint, while the black and white checkered pattern of the floor is reflected in that of the counter. There’s a retro oversized jukebox against one wall, but its vintage appearance is only for show as the songs contained within are digital instead of encoded on individual records.

“I know this place looks a little much, but I swear their milkshakes are the real deal. They use real ice cream and flavorings here. None of that artificial stuff,” Steve tells him by way of explanation. They commandeer a booth near the back and place their order: a banana malt for Tony and vanilla for Steve.

“So, Gay Kama Sutra, huh?” Tony says, “Interesting reading material.” It wouldn’t be his first choice as an informative manual on sex, with few pictures and only describing just north of a dozen positions, but people have to start somewhere, and _Kama Sutra_ is a household name in sex. Then again, Steve looks rather young, probably in his early- to mid-twenties; perhaps he picked up the book due to its introductory nature with respect to gay relationships.

Steve pinks yet again as he fidgets with a napkin, nervously twisting and tearing it to pieces. “I didn’t know what to get.”

“It’s okay. Are you– are you new to this?” Tony hazards a guess.

“Is it that obvious?”

Tony’s gaze drifts down to the napkin, now in a torn-up pile. “Let’s just say I had a hunch.”

“…Sorry.”

“No need to apologize, big guy. We’ve all been there,” he commiserates. “I remember when I came out as bisexual, Howard – that’s my father – he flipped.”

Howard had never been particularly supportive of anything Tony did, but his sexuality had really been the tipping point. Mom had been cautiously optimistic he’d eventually find a woman to settle down with, but Howard disowned Tony when he brought his first boyfriend home from MIT one Thanksgiving. The relationship didn’t last, of course, but the rift it caused did. And when Tony dropped out shortly after, using what remained of the college fund from his maternal grandparents to open his own queer bookstore, he and Howard ceased speaking to each other altogether.

“If you don’t mind my asking, are you out?” Tony asks.

Steve bites his lip, hesitating a beat before ultimately replying. “Sort of. I don’t have any family left anymore, but I have a circle of good friends who know. I’m not really out at my job, though. It must be nice working at a bookstore where you can be yourself.”

“Owning a bookstore,” Tony corrects him. “Stark Naked Book Exchange. My name’s on the sign.” He pats his chest. “Tony Stark.”

Steve perks up. “That’s great! Being your own boss must be very freeing.”

“Oh, it is.” The early days had been hard. Back when Tony barely had enough customers to keep the store afloat, he worried often about rent and bills and making it to the next month – in his darker hours, he had considered crawling back to Howard for help – but now that he is more established, he makes a decent living even if he’ll never be rich again.

But at least he’s happy.

Steve smiles. “I’d like to get there one day,” he says before clarifying, “I fix up and customize motorcycles. It’s rewarding, working with your hands to build something beautiful that your customers just love.”

“Now, I’d really like to see your motorcycle in good lighting.”

Their waitress interrupts, passing them their malts. Steve thanks her, absently tapping the straw up and down to loosen the drink out of habit, then taking a sip. Tony copies the motion, finally sucking the syrupy-sweet treat with some difficulty. It’s thick with mashed banana blended throughout, mixed with a vanilla base. Tony has to admit, it’s one of the better milkshakes he’s had.

“Lola’s a beaut, but she’s still a work in progress. Not done yet, you know,” Steve replies as if they hadn’t been interrupted.

“And she has a name, too.”

He lifts a brow at that, responding in a teasing manner: “You’re telling me that old junker you drive around doesn’t?”

“Say what you want, but have you ever had people stop and ask you where you got your ride?” Tony inquires.

“…Yes? All the time. It’s actually good advertising.”

“Well, I haven’t, not even once. The 1999 Toyota Corolla will get you where you need to go with little fanfare. Now, that’s what I call incognito, honey,” he beams up at Steve. “You want to be gay and do crime: the 1999 Toyota Corolla is the getaway car for you.”

Steve looks amused. “So, you’re a thief then.”

“Only of hearts,” Tony slurps his drink, sneaking a peek at the other man when he doesn’t respond. “Too cheesy?”

“Maybe a little.”

“I can’t be doing that poorly. You have yet to excuse yourself to the bathroom and shimmy your way out the window, leaving me with your mostly-full milkshake and the check.”

Steve laughs at that. “I wouldn’t do that to you.”

“You say that now, but I haven’t yet exposed you to the full extent of my shining personality,” Tony is on a roll now. “It’s like staring directly into the sun: way too bright, blistering, and not recommended by 9 out of 10 ophthalmologists, and you know number ten got his degree via a correspondence school in international waters.”

“You aren’t so bad. I used to know some characters back in the army who could be a handful.”

“A vet, huh?”

“Yep. Four years. Honorably discharged a few years back.”

Tony hums, tapping the straw into his milkshake to mix it. “Must have been hard back before ‘Don’t Ask; Don’t Tell’ was repealed.”

“Yeah, I had a girlfriend back then – Peggy – but we kept it on the down low, you know,” Steve replies, but then he bites his lip, looking nervous, like he made a mistake in his admission. Tony supposes it is an embarrassing faux pas to mention your ex on a first date with someone new. Still…

 _Why would he need to keep a girlfriend secret?_ Tony wants to ask, but he knows better than to double-down on taboo subjects like an ex. Instead, he latches onto what this piece of information does reveal about Steve, “Oh, so you’re bisexual, too?”

“Well, I wasn’t exactly _out-out_ at the time,” Steve fumbles before clumsily changing the subject. “How’s that malt? Good, right?”

“Excellent.” Tony recognizes a deflection when he hears one, but he lets it slide. He likes Steve, and if the man isn’t comfortable with that line of conversation, then he won’t pry.

And so, the two of them continue to talk long after, having decided to order a dinner of cheeseburgers and fries to go with their malts. Though Tony had been initially attracted to Steve’s appearance, he finds him charming, in an old-fashioned kind of way, and spends the time teasing the man, flirting as he gets to know him, hinting that if Steve wants, Tony wouldn’t be opposed to going someplace more private where they can get to know each other better in a carnal sense. Either Steve is too polite or too dense to take the bait, choosing instead to stay at the diner until closing time when the waitress returns to drop off their check.

Tony insists he pay, being the one to ask him out, but Steve declines the gesture, having stolen the check.

“I picked out the place so it’s on me,” Steve tells him, further refusing his offer to split the check. He holds it out of the other man’s reach, handing it to their waitress with enough cash to pay their bill plus a hefty tip. “Tell you what: I’ll pick up the check today, and next time I’ll let you pay.”

Tony rests his chin on curled fingers propped up on the table. He looks over at Steve with a coy gleam in his eye, “So, there’s going to be a next time?”

“I’d like to see you again, so if you’re open to it–”

“Oh, I’m open, honey. Wide open.”

Steve blushes, and damn is it easy to get him to do that. “Okay then, you can pick the place next time.”

“There’s no reason the night has to end so soon. How about my place for coffee?” Tony suggests. “I have a really great espresso machine.” It is one of the few holdovers from his old life, back when he could drop ten grand on a single-use device without batting an eye. Nowadays, he wouldn’t invest in something so extravagant, but it _did_ make excellent coffee.

“I don’t put out on the first date. I’m not that easy.” Steve jokes, though in a way that implied it is anything but.

“Who said anything about sex?” Tony counters. “I just offered coffee.”

Steve drops his chin down, and his eyebrows rise as he regards the other man skeptically. “Only coffee?”

Tony straightens his back and holds up three fingers. “Scout’s honor.”

He had never been a boy scout, but Tony promises himself he’ll be good. He will be respectful of the other man’s boundaries and keep his hands to himself… mostly. If that’s what Steve wants. (Though he hopes to convince him otherwise.)

“…Alright.”

* * *

Steve follows Tony on his motorcycle, parking around the corner while Tony waits for him on his stoop. They go in together, sneaking up to his second-story apartment, quietly giggling like they’re kids again and Tony is trying not to wake his parents. He’s not far off in a sense; Old Man Fury lives under him and is a particularly vigilant neighbor, prone to knocking against his ceiling with a broom handle if Tony is too loud too late at night (which he is with some frequency, half the time simply to annoy the curmudgeonly fellow). Still, he supposes Steve wouldn’t look too kindly on him purposely antagonizing the elderly, so he tries to tread softly in his apartment as he makes two espressos and carries them back to the couch where Steve waits.

“Aaaand here we are: The best espresso this side of the East River, made by yours truly,” Tony declares, passing Steve his cup.

Steve takes a sip. “It’s actually pretty good,” he says with some surprise.

“ _Actually?_ ” Tony feigns hurt, thumping his chest with an open palm, fingers splayed. “Mr. Rogers, you wound me. You think I would just invite you up for inferior beans?”

“I have to admit, I thought the coffee was just a ploy to get me upstairs.”

“And yet you came anyway,” Tony says, his fingers suggestively tracing the muscles of Steve’s bicep. “Were you hoping it was a ploy?”

A smile tugs at the corner of Steve’s mouth as he puts his cup down on the side table and leans in, his breath ghosting against Tony’s cheek. “Well, there was always a chance you were being straight with me.”

Tony turns to face him. “Darling, you should know I’m never straight,” he murmurs before closing the distance and pressing his lips to Steve’s.

Steve tastes of coffee.

Tony parts his lips and darts his tongue in for a deeper taste, brushing it against Steve’s, who responds with fervor, wrapping his arms around Tony to bring him close, mold him to his body. Tony’s hands slip from his shoulders down his impressive pecs and are glancing his abdomen before Steve puts a stop to his downward trajectory, covering Tony’s hands with his own and keeping them decidedly above the belt. So, Tony throws a leg over Steve’s lap, sliding in close to him, subtly grinding his ass against Steve’s groin, confused when he doesn’t feel the telltale erection.

Is he doing this wrong? There’s no way he’s misreading the signs. Tony isn’t delusional; Steve has to be into him.

But now, Steve is pushing him away, politely rearranging him off his lap. So, Tony breaks their kiss to look up at him curiously.

“…I’ve got to go,” Steve says abruptly, disentangling his arms from Tony’s and straightening out his shirt before standing. “I had a great time tonight, but I– I have work early in the morning.” Steve cringes when it sounds like a brush-off even to his ear. “I’ll definitely call you, Tony.”

No, he won’t.

“Looking forward to it.” Tony stands to see him out.

For a moment, he watches the man’s retreat down the stairs before closing the door, returning to the living room to clean up their espresso mugs. For whatever reason, Steve has lost interest in him, and Tony can’t help but feel disappointed.

So imagine his surprise when Steve actually does call the following day.

“Hi Tony, I’d like to apologize for running out on you last night, and I was wondering if you’re up for it, if you’d like to meet up at the Foxhole for drinks?”

“…Sure. Of course I’d love to.”

“Excellent. See you around 8:30?”

“It’s a date,” Tony says before he can stop himself. He hangs up to prevent any further damage, then promptly stresses over whether he hung up on Steve too fast. Tony is better than this, so why can’t he stop screwing up this… whatever this is with Steve?

He knows exactly why. It has been so long since he was into someone as much as he is into Steve.

Tony is well and truly fucked.

* * *

Usually, Tony enjoys his job. He enjoys talking to customers, recommending books suited to their needs and the like, but now, he watches the clock as it ticks ever so slowly towards closing time. He’s pretty sure Father Time is fucking with him, having paused for a half hour somewhere between 6:45 and 6:50. Then one of his regulars, a young teen named Peter, stays for eight minutes past closing time covertly reading _Midnighter_ in the comics section.

“Kid, you know you’re always welcome to come in and read, but it’s getting late,” Tony gently reminds him. He doesn’t know if Peter is from a conservative home or is just plain broke, but he never buys anything, simply choosing to read in the stacks. Tony never says anything – who is he to erect what would effectively be a pay wall and deny reading material to some poor queer kid – but he’s going to be late if he stays any longer.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Stark!” and Peter sounds nervous, sensitive to the fact that he may have overstayed his welcome.

Tony sighs. “It’s fine. I just have a date to get to, and I need to lock up. Come back tomorrow.”

Peter carefully returns the comic book to its appropriate slot then hurries out. “Good luck on your date.”

“Thanks. I’m going to need it.”

Peter pauses at the door. “I wouldn’t say that. If they’re smart, they’ll totally take the bait. I mean, look at this place. Free books for life.”

“…Goodbye, Peter.”

“I’m just saying you should point it out subtly, you know. Casually drop a copy of _Orlando_ , and when they pick it up, say ‘there’s more where that came from’ and give them The Look™. You know The Look™, right?” Peter tries for seductive, but it comes across as constipated.

“I said goodbye, Peter.”

* * *

Tony is running five minutes late.

He had texted Steve to let him know, lest he think Tony had stood him up, but he still feels terrible. He is trying to impress Steve, and tardiness is far from impressive.

So when he barrels through the entrance of the Foxhole, he sees Steve at the bar, quietly chatting up the bartender. He approaches, catching the tail end of what turns out to be an argument.

“–heads up if you’re going to do it here,” the bartender tells a chastened Steve before addressing Tony, “Welcome to the Foxhole; I’ll be with you in a minute, sir.”

“Hi Tony,” Steve greets him sheepishly, giving him a small wave.

“Oh,” the bartender does a double-take, giving Tony a quick once-over. “Stevie, you _really_ should have called ahead. I could have called in Sam.”

He turns towards the redheaded waitress untying her apron across the counter. “Hey Nat, watch the bar for me for twenty, yeah?”

Nat looks annoyed. “I’m about to go on my…” she trails off, looking between Tony and Steve. “Okay, yeah sure.”

Tony knows when he is being handled, and he doesn’t like it.

“What’re you drinking… Tony, was it?” The bartender asks as he comes around the bar.

“Just give me whatever Steve is having.”

“A cranberry juice?”

“Just give him a beer, Bucky,” Steve amends Tony’s order before thinking better of it, “Unless you’d like a cocktail?”

But Tony waves him off. “Beer’s fine.”

“Nat?” Bucky calls out.

“Already on it,” she says, slinging over a cranberry juice before filling up a beer from whatever is on tap and passing that as well.

They retreat to a table across the way, but Bucky leans up against the customer side of the bar, ready for… Tony’s not exactly sure, but he looks prepared to intervene at a moment’s notice.

“So… your friends work at the Foxhole,” Tony starts. “If you drank, that would be quite the bonus.”

“I used to drink. I used to come here all the time, but I haven’t in a while,” Steve draws a finger down the side of his glass, collecting condensation.

“Shit… I’m sorry,” Tony recognizes the signs well enough: Steve’s reticence, his argument, the cranberry juice. “We shouldn’t have come here. How long have you been sober?” Howard had been an alcoholic and had spent brief stints in rehab and AA meetings, usually after he got a bit rough with Tony when Mom threatened to leave him.

Steve startles. “It’s not– that’s not it. I– I’m not an alcoholic,” he stutters.

_If he’s not an alcoholic…_

“I thought you said your friends knew you weren’t straight, but when I showed up, they looked surprised,” Tony glances over at the bar. If he didn’t know any better, he would think Bucky is attempting to bore a hole in his head through sight alone. “I mean, just look at him. Is that why…”

 _Is that why Steve was hesitant to go any further the night before? Were his friends okay with Steve dating men in theory while the reality proved much harder to swallow?_ How could Steve’s friends be homophobic and work _here_ of all places? The Foxhole might have been a bar serving primarily ex-military, but it is still a well-known gay-friendly establishment.

“Don’t mind Bucky. He’s just concerned.”

Like that made any sense either. Steve could snap Tony like a twig if he was so inclined.

But Steve continues, “The thing is… before this goes any further than it has, I thought you should know,” he waffles for a beat, nervously tapping the table. “I’m trans.”

 _What?_ Tony is nonplussed, looking over at Steve with new eyes. He would have never even guessed–

He takes a swig of his previously-untouched beer. “…Okay,” Tony says after the moment has passed.

“So… are you– are you still interested?” Steve asks, looking hopeful but not wanting to press him.

_Is he?_

Tony looks up at Steve, at his strong jawline, his gorgeous cheekbones, and those beautiful blue eyes, and there’s really only one answer to that.

“Yeah,” he says, and Steve looks relieved. But then Tony has to open his big mouth and ruin it all. “I mean. Well, you know, I’m bisexual so… whatever you’ve got, I’m flexible.”

“Whatever I… Look, I’m a man. What I _got_ is a cock.” And now Steve sounds offended.

“Oh so, you’re post–”

“No, but…” he sighs, “Is that all you’re interested in? What’s in my pants?” Steve sounds disappointed as he scoots his chair out. “You know what? Maybe this isn’t going to work out.”

Tony stands, reflexively grabbing the other man by the elbow to stay him. “Steve, I’m sorry. I’m just a little confused.”

Steve shakes him off, snatching his arm away. “I can’t date someone who still thinks of me as a woman.”

He takes a half-step forward. “Steve–” he tries to correct course, but Bucky is already on him, breaking them apart.

“Okay, I think you should leave now,” he says, pushing Tony towards the exit.

“Hey!”

“Come on, buddy. You don’t want to make a scene,” Bucky doesn’t let up until Tony is outside on the street, and he has given instructions to the bouncer to not let him back in for the night.

Tony blinks up at the neon sign.

_What just happened?_

* * *

Steve won’t return his calls; so three days later on a slow Tuesday night, Tony does the only thing he can think of.

“I’d like a scotch,” he says, slipping into an empty barstool at the Foxhole.

Bucky eyes him warily, but Tony holds up his hands in placation. “Don’t want any trouble. Just looking for a drink.”

So Bucky pours him his order, sliding it over. Tony lifts it up, raising his glass in a silent toast before bringing it to his lips, but before he can take a sip, Bucky tells him, “You need to stop calling Stevie.”

That gives Tony pause. “…He told you?”

Bucky places his palms down on the bar, leaning forward. “I don’t know what your deal is, but no means no. Don’t matter if it’s another guy on the other end.”

Tony drinks, placing the glass back on the counter. “I just wanted to… apologize.”

“Just apologize?”

“Okay, my motives aren’t that pure,” he admits. “I would like another chance, and I thought if I could just talk to Steve–”

“Yeah, this isn’t about what you want,” Bucky cuts him off. “It’s his call, and I think he made his wishes clear, so…” he glances down at Tony’s drink. “I think you better finish up before it gets warm.”

Tony ordered the scotch room temperature for a reason, and they both know having it sit isn’t going to compromise the flavor. “I was hoping you could talk to him for me.”

“And why would I do that?”

“Because I think I could make Steve happy, and you have a vested interest in seeing him happy.”

Bucky is quiet at that but looks skeptical.

Still, Tony takes his silence as an indication that he is listening. “Look, I know I upset him, but… okay, I’ve never dated a trans person before, and maybe I could have worded things better, but my intentions are good,” he tells him, swirling the glass. “I just want a chance to state my case, and if he still doesn’t want to try after hearing what I have to say, then that’ll be the end of it.”

“And if he doesn’t want to listen?”

“I’ll back off. This right here is my last shot, and then I’ll go,” he says. “It’s just… I never expected… well, him being trans came as a shock. I’m sure you’ve always known so maybe the adjustment was easy, but…” Tony should stop talking now before he says something accidentally transphobic, like how for someone who was born a woman, Steve really passes as a man. He knows it’s not quite right anyway. Steve has always been a man, even when his appearance didn’t quite match that reality.

“Easy?” Bucky repeats. “You think it was easy?”

That catches Tony’s attention. “You knew him before?”

He nods. “You know when Stevie first came out, we went shopping. Got him some better clothes, the right razors, and body wash and all that. I even showed him how to shave when he started hormones. His mom didn’t know what to think, and Joe sure as hell wasn’t going to help him, but you know, I love Stevie. I’ll always love and support him… but that doesn’t mean I didn’t love her, too,” he admits.

Tony takes another sip of his drink. “There never was a ‘her.’”

Bucky sighs. “You think I don’t know that?” He takes to wiping down the bar, not quite looking at Tony. “It’s selfish, I know, and kind of shitty, but I miss her. We never talk about her. We can’t. But she… she used to sit at that stool where you’re sitting and just shoot the shit with me. She was striking. Tall and blonde and though you wouldn’t know it now, stick thin. Sometimes, a guy would get a little handsy, and you know, she was a lesbian and never up for that, so I’d have to knock a few heads – when I saw you, it caught me off-guard; didn’t think Steve would be into guys – but that’s beside the point. She used to hang around, but Stevie… he doesn’t stop by as much. He doesn’t drink. Because of the hormones, he says, messed with his tolerance, and there’s always the concern about overtaxing his liver… but I think it’s because it’s something _she_ used to do. Those habits belong to someone else.”

“I can see why he’d do that,” Tony commiserates, leaning forward, arms crossed and fingers curled over his mouth.

Now that the floodgates are open, Bucky can’t seem to stop. “It’s not something I would ever tell him, but during ‘Project Rebirth’ – that’s what he called it when he… well, I was getting to know Steve while mourning my best friend. Do you know how hard it was to say goodbye to my sister in every way that counted, to learn she was an act? Had never existed to begin with?”

“It must have been difficult, incredibly so,” Tony sympathizes, “but probably not harder than becoming who you’ve always been.”

Bucky pours him another scotch – a double this time – placing it next to the first.

“I didn’t order this.”

“It’s on the house.”

Tony finishes his first drink in one swallow, and slides his second closer, scrapping the bottom across the bar.

“Steve’s stubborn,” Bucky continues. “He doesn’t give up on people easy. That much hasn’t changed, and if you’re in, he’ll give it a shot, but if you’re not 100%, if you’re having reservations–”

“Why would I have any reservations? I like him,” Tony says resolutely.

Bucky straightens up, looming large. “If this is some sort of… of curiosity thing, or a fetish–”

“It’s not.”

“He’s not your dirty little secret, either.”

“Nope. Scout’s honor,” Tony swears. “Not to be completely superficial, but have you seen him? I know odds are you don’t swing that way, but trust me; I’d be happy to have a man like that on my arm.”

Bucky nods, seeming to accept Tony’s interest as sincere. “Well then, this sort of goes without saying, but if you hurt him, you’re going to have to answer to me.”

“I’m sure Steve can take care of himself.”

“Oh, I know, but… old habits,” he places his hands casually on his hips, looking warily at the other man.

“Yeah… I guess it’s good he has someone looking out for him,” Tony agrees, he finishes the double, then places a twenty on the table for his first drink. “So, you know… if he’s willing to try again, I’m down at the Stark Naked Book Exchange. He can always stop by.”

But Bucky doesn’t accept his money. Instead, his expression sours. “Yeah… that’s not happening. I’m not helping you get Stevie to a secondary location. I’ll pass on the message, and if he wants, you can meet up here or at some other neutral ground.”

Tony shrugs. “Fair enough. I get it. Safety first, huh?”

“Can’t be too careful, you know,” Bucky slides the twenty back towards Tony, in case there is any doubt that his money is no good here. For now. “A lot of freaks out there are looking to hurt people like him.”

“I’m not going to hurt him.”

Bucky turns away with a noncommittal hum, calling over his shoulder, “See that you don’t.”

* * *

Steve calls him the following night.

Tony almost can’t believe it. He stares at his phone for another ring before accepting. “Hello?”

“Hi Tony.”

_Here’s his chance._

“Steve… I’m glad you called me back. I just wanted to say, I’m um… sorry. For before. I didn’t mean to imply– that is. Well. I like you, Steve, and I’d really like to get to know you better,” Tony stumbles, hoping he stuck the landing on that one. He really doesn’t want Steve to think he is only interested in him for the novelty of the experience. He meant what he said. This is more than sex.

“I’d like that.”

“So… do you want to go to dinner with me Friday? I was thinking this little Italian joint. They have the best sauce, just like my dearly-departed Nonna’s.”

“Pick you up from the bookstore at 8?” Steve offers. “I’ll bring an extra helmet.”

“Can’t wait.”

* * *

At the appointed date and time, Steve enters Stark Naked Book Exchange, placing an extra helmet on the counter.

“Ready to go?”

“Yes, he is!” A voice calls from the stacks. Steve turns to see Peter peeking out from around a shelf, his eyes alighting on Steve with poorly-concealed interest. “And he has an employee discount of 100% off. Just… you know, something to think about.”

Tony sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Goodbye, Peter.”

But when Steve’s back is once again turned to him, the boy makes eye contact with Tony over Steve’s shoulder, points at his date for the evening, and mouths _Oh-My-Gawd-Mr.-Stark_.

“See you tomorrow, kid.”

* * *

Two weeks later, after their fifth date at a bowling alley, Tony invites Steve back to his place for a slice of cheesecake he had picked up from a shop across town – a cash-only joint run by little old ladies who pour love in every bite.

“Is this another ploy to get me in your place?” Steve teases.

“Yes, of course it is, but there’s also the best goddamn cheesecake in the city, sitting in my fridge, lonely and waiting for a big strong man to have a slice,” Tony slips his hands into the other man’s coat, wrapping them around his trim waist and stealing his warmth. “Are you going to disappoint the cheesecake, Steve?” he murmurs.

“Heaven forbid I disappoint baked goods.”

“Excellent.”

* * *

Steve is only halfway through his slice when he makes his move.

“You sure you don’t want any of this?” he asks Tony, who sits next to him on the couch, hunched over with a cup of coffee and his socked feet up on the cushions.

“No, that’s okay. I’m good with just this,” Tony holds up his mug. He doesn’t normally indulge in sweets so late, lest he upset his stomach.

“How about a taste? It’s really good.”

“Alright, if you insist,” he acquiesces, but instead of a bite of cheesecake, Steve puts his plate down on a side table and leans over to kiss him, allowing Tony a sample of the sweet taste still lingering on his tongue.

“How was that?” Steve whispers against his lips, breath warming the space between them.

Tony dives in again, unfolding his limbs to climb up into Steve’s lap for better leverage, kissing him deeply as he cradles his face. Steve slips his hands under Tony’s shirt, moving behind to embrace him fully, his shirt riding up with the motion. Not to be outdone, Tony unbuttons Steve’s shirt, aiming to slip inside, to feel the firm planes of his chest and rippling abs, but Steve freezes, abruptly breaking off their kiss and pulling away, prompting Tony to withdraw his touch.

Tony rests his forehead on Steve’s shoulder. “…Sorry,” he mumbles. And things had been going so well, too.

“It’s… it’s alright, Tony,” Steve says, and Tony turns his head to stare at his chin, at the subtle bob in his neck, much less prominent than his own. “Just, um… before we get too far, just know that there’s a little scarring, okay? From… from my top surgery about a couple years back.”

“Hm… I’d like to see you, but if you’re not ready, it’s alright,” Tony assures him. “We don’t have to go any further than this.”

“I want to, but just know you’re going to see some things that may look a little… different.”

“Everyone’s different, darling.”

Steve kisses him, tentatively this time, and Tony moves slow, letting his hands roam over the other man’s clothing, not wanting to scare him off but open for more.

After some coaxing, Steve pushes him back gently, and undoes his own shirt, shrugging it off and pulling his undershirt up and over his head, revealing his chest to his paramour. Tony doesn’t stare. He resumes kissing him with little preamble, feeling the now-exposed skin with trembling fingers, so thankful that Steve trusts him with this much.

“Do you…” Steve asks, slightly muffled by Tony’s lips, causing him pause their activities, “Do you want to move this to the bedroom?”

_YES PLEASE._

But Tony goes with the decidedly more-acceptable: “If that’s what you want, Steve, but I don’t want to rush you.”

“I’d like to,” Steve confirms, and so Tony leads him to his bed, glad that he had tidied up recently, a habit he had gotten into doing before every date night with the man. Just in case.

“This is a lot cleaner than I thought it would be,” Steve teases gently. “Expecting company?”

“That was the hope. Eventually. When you were ready,” Tony admits. “I thought you wouldn’t appreciate a book on Thermodynamics digging into your hip while you try to have your way with me.” Tony slept with no less than five books at any one time, a fact he would let Steve in on later, assuming he became a more-frequent guest.

Steve blushes at the thought as Tony guides them to sit on the edge of his bed.

“So… uh. Before we do this, how do you like to be touched? What’s off-limits?” If Tony had learned anything at all in his research on having a trans partner, it is that everyone has different boundaries, various things they liked and just as many possible triggers.

Steve rubs the back of his neck, scratching at the hairs there. “My cock is fine, but I don’t like it when people touch my cockpit.”

Tony cants his head to the side, his brows knitting together. “Your what?”

“My… you know, my front hole. I don’t like it,” Steve clarifies.

“Gotcha. I can work with that.”

Still, he feels the need to reiterate: “I’m not a woman, you know.”

“Of course you aren’t, darling,” Tony confirms.

Steve doesn’t quite look at Tony. His body language is closed off, with hunched shoulders and crossed arms, as if holding himself together. “You’re not entitled to a bonus hole,” he states flatly, bracing himself for rejection.

And now Tony wants to punch every one of Steve’s prior partners who made him feel that way in the dick.

Instead, he palms Steve’s shoulder, running his hands up and down his upper arm soothingly. “Hey,” he says. Steve turns to face him. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. I care about you, Steve, for far more than whatever you can do for me in bed, okay?” Tony leans forward – “Let me take care of you” – and kisses him again.

It takes a moment, but Steve relaxes again, planting his hands under his lover’s ass and lifting him to rearrange them on the bed with Tony on his back and Steve pressing into him. Tony makes needy little noises as he involuntarily thrusts his pelvis up against Steve’s. “Let me… le’ me suck you off,” he pants, reaching up to suck at his pulse point as Steve moans and shudders. Tony knows Steve is pre-op, but what’s down there – his cock – can still respond to oral pleasure, and whatever form it takes… Tony has always been good with his mouth. He can learn; he can adjust to Steve’s body.

Wordlessly, Steve unzips his pants, flipping over off of Tony to fully divesting himself of his clothing. He watches Tony’s face as he glances down, and–

Okay, yes, that is a dick. It’s on the (very) small side, sure, but it’s there, partially erect and peeking out from Steve’s folds.

Even though Steve has already given Tony permission, he asks, “Can I…”

“Yes.”

Tony touches him, delicately stroking down the short shaft, rubbing the area at the base on either side with firm strokes, never venturing towards the forbidden space below. Steve is nervous at first but relaxes, emboldening Tony who slips off the bed to settle between his thighs. He gives his cock a tentative lick, swirling the broad side of his tongue around the glans as he massages the base. He darts his tongue around, laving the area, even as he reaches up to manually massage his inner thighs, his stomach and the globes of his ass, feeling Steve tremble and breath quicken, and repeating motions that inspire such reactions.

Steve pants, moaning and running his fingers through Tony’s hair. He tugs lightly on the tuffs, prompting the man to look up, to watch Steve as he comes undone on his tongue.

“Your turn,” Steve says when Tony rises from between his legs. He pushes him down so he’s lying on the bed with Steve hovering over him, planting a hand on his stomach to keep him steady as he swallows down Tony’s dick, and… okay, he’s not the greatest at it, likely having way more experience with women, but what Steve lacks in experience, he more than makes up for with exuberance. And when he pulls off, he gives Tony a wicked smile and asks, “You got any lube?”

Of course Tony does, so he rifles through his nightstand, finding the bottle to toss to Steve. Steve snaps open the cap, coating his fingers, rubbing it warm. “You mind if I… Well, I don’t have my dick on me, so I was wondering if you’d like–”

“Yes please,” Tony replies, spreading his legs wider.

“Someone’s eager,” Steve chuckles, settling in between them once again. He slides a slick index up Tony’s leg to settle over his asshole, pressing softly against the tight pucker as he takes him into his mouth once again.

He breeches the firm muscles with a thick finger, sliding the digit in and out to the first knuckle as he lightly suckles Tony’s dick, making his mouth tight around the head then loose, moving his tongue over and around. He presses in deeper then, curling it slightly to press against the front wall, underneath which lies the firm walnut of Tony’s prostate. Tony shudders, his vocalization low and guttural.

Steve pulls off, stroking Tony’s dick with his free hand as he humps the air. “You like that, sweetheart?” He presses against his prostate once again.

Tony nods, and he thinks he may have made an affirmative sound because Steve is thrusting faster then pulling out to add a second thick finger alongside the first, and…

 _Damn, he has big hands,_ is the last coherent thought Tony has before he’s lost in a sea of sensation. There’s something wet and sloppy and welcoming sliding over his dick – Steve’s mouth – while something else entirely is thick in his ass, filling him up and working him over. Eventually, there’s a hand sheathing his dick and Steve is near his face, trailing kisses along his neck, his collar and down over his sensitive nipples. He winds Tony up, taut and ready, dancing on the cusp of orgasm until he kisses him full on the mouth.

Tony screams as he comes, spilling himself in the tight space between their bodies, before falling limp and boneless onto the mattress.

In the afterglow, Steve rearranges him to face away as he drapes an arm over his waist. His fingers lightly trace circles into the exposed skin of his stomach while Tony lies tucked neatly under his chin. “Next time, we should go to my place,” he murmurs into the man’s dark sweat-slicked hair. “I’ve got this aftermarket dick you’re going to love.”

“Aftermarket?” Tony is not familiar with the terminology, but his brain is too muzzy to make sense of it anyway.

“You’ve got what I call a factory-direct penis,” Steve clarifies. “I have an aftermarket one.”

That certainly opened up a range of interesting possibilities – Tony had never considered the benefits of being able to select your own equipment – however, like in all things related to sex, it isn’t so much the dick that mattered, but the man behind it.

“Looking forward to it, honey.”

Tony snuggles back into Steve, nuzzling down into their shared pillow, while Steve plants kisses over his temple and settles down behind him.

In the morning, Steve will try to make pancakes. He will try (and fail) to find a spatula and sack of flour amidst the many boxes of granola bars and bags of coffee beans in the cabinets, all while decrying Tony’s organizational system (or lack thereof). But for now, they lay entangled together, lightly dozing and drifting off to a deeper sleep, wrapped up and content with each other.

**Author's Note:**

> Since I didn’t want to be rude and directly ask a random trans man about their experiences, particularly with dating and how to have sex with cis people… I watched youtube videos from and read about trans male experiences online in researching this fic, and while no two are alike, I found some interesting trends. A large proportion (around 40%) of trans individuals experience a change in sexual attraction after transitioning, so sometimes a person who identified as a lesbian previously can come out as a straight trans man but sometimes, their orientation shifts to bisexual or gay trans man, which is what happens with Steve in this fic. Trans people also have a lot of issues when navigating dating (particularly with cis people), and the experience is fraught with violence, rejection, and/or fetishization. As for the sex they have… I really tried not to write Steve as a stereotype. Gay trans men are not necessarily bottoms, and though many people mentioned that the sex might be different, it was sort of hard to pin down exactly how it might be different. A few trans people were more… instructional on how to have gender-affirming sex as a trans person, though once again, this varied. (For gay trans men, some find performing fellatio triggers their dysphoria while others are fine. Some are okay with vaginal sex with the lights off, but many are not. Also, surprising to me was this one video I watched with two trans men, one gay and one straight, who both said they absolutely wouldn’t wear a harness during sex but were fine with dildos, though this isn’t the case with all trans men. Some are fine with strap-ons.) Anyways, I tried, y’all. I hope you liked it.


End file.
